


On Your Mark

by saxophonic



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Ambiguous Age, Ankle Cuffs, Biting, Blindfolds, Bruises, Cookie game scene, Explicit sexual content with ambiguous-age/underage character, Handcuffs, Hickeys, Light BDSM, Multi, Slapping, Underage Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saxophonic/pseuds/saxophonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He likes when they have fun with this too. He likes to know they enjoy doing this as much as he does. He loves being the center of all their attention, accepted, like he belongs with them. Like he’s theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Your Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thirstingdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirstingdragon/gifts).



> Part of [The Brownie Bunch](http://thebrowniebunch.livejournal.com/) fic exchange round 3. Please enjoy!

The blindfold fits snug, sitting high on the bridge of his nose. Cool fabric presses against his eyelids. His tongue darts out to wet the corners of his mouth. He adjusts his arms and the chain connecting the leather cuffs around his wrists clink. The soft little chimes of metal on metal are a familiar comfort to his ears. If he holds his breath and strains to hear, Junhong can hear the members in the other room, deciding their order with _kai bai bo_.

But, that would be cheating, and cheating means less fun later. Trying to decipher the excited yelps from the other room would ruin the whole experience. Like on the first night, when the blindfold and cuffs went on only after the other members decided the order. Junhong had waited in the middle of the small, shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The others had entered, different expressions telling different stories. Daehyun with his smug grin. Himchan and Youngjae’s faces pinched in annoyance. Yongguk’s eyes sullen. Jongup’s shoulders tense. Junhong offered 3 out of 5 correct guesses before they even locked his arms behind his back. Himchan threatened to spank him. Junhong offered his best shit-eating grin. They blindfolded and cuffed him before leaving the room to reshuffle themselves.

Junhong moves on the floor now, shifting to his knees. He stops straining, instead listening to the generous chain between his matching ankle cuffs skid on the floor. He wonders if someone will spank him tonight. Touch him until his skin glows pink from one of his hyungs, or maybe they’ll team up on him again.

He shivers, swallows. His skin tingles with anticipation. It shouldn’t take this much time to sort out the order of five people. What’s taking so long? He wonders if maybe this waiting is a new part of the game, but they’d talk about that before leaving him in limbo. Maybe they’re strategizing again. He hopes so as he flexes his thighs, his ass. Junhong spreads his knees apart as he settles his weight. He likes when they have fun with this too, likes knowing they enjoy doing this as much as he does. He loves being the center of all their attention, accepted, taken care of, like he belongs with them.

Like he’s theirs.

The door swings open and Junhong’s ears prick at the noise, the rush of air flowing over his face. He grins in the direction of his hyungs’ feet padding into the room. The door clicks shut.

“I’m ready,” Junhong says, rolling his neck in a slow circle. He knows they’re moving around him, finding places to sit and the beds creak under new weight. He flexes and curls his toes with the feeling of their eyes on him. Either whoever is first is having difficulty deciding his spot, or they’re all intent on making him wait.

“Did you not hear me the first time? Should I be louder?” he asks with a teasing lilt. He opens his mouth to taunt further but exclaims instead as he’s pushed. Broad hands press against his hips, leaning him back. Thick fingers dig into his hips. Fingernails prick crescents into his skin, both thumbs scratching in slow lines. Junhong arches his back, lifting his hips into the pain. He wants more, willing to beg for the attention. He holds tongue mostly. This game isn’t about him talking. At least, not yet.

Dry lips press against the soft, vulnerable skin under his navel. Junhong focuses on the size of the lips, ruling out Daehyun with high confidence. Teeth scrape against his skin, accompanying another squeeze in the grip on his hips. The first hyung sucks, adding teeth to bite down and ravage the skin. Again and again, drawing heat and Junhong’s focus to the mouth on his lower belly.

The hands on his hips tighten as the mouth releases, relocating a mouth’s breadth away. The hyung licks a swath of skin with a flat tongue before sinking his teeth in. His bite draws a whiny gasp from Junhong. Smiling against taut skin, he sucks again to make another tender bruise on his maknae. Junhong’s dick throbs at the attention, prodding against his hyung as he squirms. His hyung bites the mark before moving to the next spot.

Five ( _or is it six?_ Junhong does a mental recount, _No, it’s five_ ) bruises later, the first hyung relinquishes his hold on the maknae. The marks left by fingernails sting, and the fresh hickeys tingle. He lets out a shuddering sigh. _Either Himchan hyung or Jonguppie hyung_ , Junhong decides. _Those teeth..._.

But then the next hyung is pushing him over to his side, pulling his legs out from underneath him, and coherent thoughts dissolve.

Lying on his shoulder, new fingers curl under his knees, spreading them apart. The hands on his legs are firm but not hard enough to bruise or pinch like the first hyung. Hair tickles his inner thigh, which would be a useful strike if any of them had buzz cuts. It itches a little but still, Junhong likes it brushing over his skin. It’s soft when it comes in on the right angles.

Teeth sink into his fleshy inner knee, sweet pain jolting up his thigh. Junhong sighs, swallowing a quiet whine threatening to scale the back of his throat. His hyung inches up his leg, biting at the skin, nipping and nibbling and sucking. Halfway up his thigh, teeth grip skin and his hyung shakes his head back and forth. Junhong sucks in a sharp breath, arms twisting against the cuffs. He jerks his knees together but his hyung tightens the grip on his legs. In response, his hyung spreads his legs wider until the ankle chain reaches its limit. He’s not splayed open, but it’s far enough to keep his legs out of the way.

The second hyung retracts his hand. Junhong’s legs stay out of the way, earning him a kiss before the next mark. This time, Junhong is ready for it.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes as his hyung works. It isn’t much, and the scant teardrops soak into the blindfold. He got to this point faster than he usually does and considers it a good thing. The rush of sensation also unwinds an emotional knot in his chest. He knows if it’s ever too much, any of this, all he has to say is the magic word lying in wait at the back of his mind, and the game is off.

This hyung pulls back, running his fingers over the indentations and bruises he’s made thus far. Junhong huffs, his sensitive skin magnifying the lightest touch. His hyung stops, not finishing the seam of bite marks crawling up the inner line of Junhong’s thigh. Instead, his hyung rubs the unmarked skin in soft circles. Nails drag over where bite marks should be. A closed mouth kiss presses against the top of his thigh. It’s soothing, and Junhong lets himself melt under the touch. _This has to be Himchan hyung or Youngjae hyung_ , he realizes.

The closed-mouth kiss gives way to teeth, enough to bring heat to the area, but no head wagging. It feels good on the easy-to-bruise area. Although he misses the intensity, he’s grateful his hyung backed off. His hyung nips in nibbles that flash and fade before the mouth disappears.

A squeak erupts from Junhong’s mouth after his hyung decides on a sudden spank on one ass cheek. The single strike is a parting gift from his hyung before moving away from his maknae, clearing the way for next in line.

One thigh (and cheek) stings with pleasant marks from his hyung, his other side out of balance from the lack of attention. He wonders if someone else will take on his other leg; make it feel as good as the first. Junhong sucks his lower lip between his teeth. He flexes his thighs to push against the pain and smiles.

Hands, smaller than the first two, spread open on his shoulders. He does his best to help his hyung, curling up his torso while his hyung pushes. Sitting on his butt, his hyung lets Junhong stretch his legs out before him. It’s nice of his hyung, and Junhong’s suspicion rises. One hand stays pressed firm against his back, helping him sit upright. The fingertips of the other hand run figures-eight over the marks on his upper thigh, on his belly. Junhong tries not to twitch in anticipation when the fingers tickle him.

A breath ghosts over his skin, warm and wet, before teeth bite Junhong’s shoulder from behind. He gasps, puffing his chest forward. Lips, wet and soft, press against the marks just made. His hyung kisses each arc of the impression. Fingers scratch along Junhong’s arms, nails rough at the edge, as his hyung kisses his neck. One finger in particular drags on Junhong’s skin. Although there’s no real force behind the hand, Junhong still wiggles under the attention. He tries to collect his thoughts to make sense of this hyung’s tactics in anticipation for the next attack. _Short nails..._.

The next scratch is firmer, like Junhong expected, but on the other arm. He twists in his cuffs, punctuated with a sharp inhale. His hyung licks around the base of Junhong’s neck before biting again. He sucks at the spot, sudden and ruthless, bruising the area with lethal efficiency. Junhong’s hard cock pulses, balls clenching. He moans under the pressure, tilting his head to the side as an invitation for his hyung to climb to the next spot. He hopes for a whole bunch of “anothers” littering the column of his neck.

Hickeys are some of his favorite leftovers, and this hyung seems to know this. _Youngjae hyung?_ The uneven nails score down his arms again and Junhong, with a shudder, is certain.

Junhong imagines what Youngjae looks like to the others watching them. Is he on his knees as he bites and scratches Junhong from behind? Are his eyes closed right now, focused on his task? Is he looking at Junhong for reactions? At any of the other hyungs? Youngjae nips the top of Junhong’s shoulder, fingers moving around to the front of his torso. The short, bitten nails on each hand dig into his skin and follow his ribs in a slow rake to his sternum. The pain starts out sharp and grows fuzzy as it dissipates. Junhong is unable to do anything but fight his instinct to squirm, whimpering instead. He doesn’t want to ruin the pretty lines his hyung is making on his skin with his extraneous motion. He likes looking at the leftovers almost as much as he likes getting them. He likes to remember how it felt.

Youngjae moves his mouth to the next mark-to-be, sucking a hickey on the bit of skin below the square of Junhong’s jaw. The maknae moans, shivering when the nails trace their pattern again, scoring trails of pink over the pale ribs. Youngjae sucks and nibbles at his skin, full attention on his task. On Junhong.

He finishes the hickey, tongue tracing up the outer shell of Junhong’s ear. Fingers scratch up the front of his throat, from his clavicle over his Adam’s apple and up underneath his jaw, and then he’s gone.

Junhong whines with need, licking his lips. The air is too cool around his dick, and the skin all around his neck, along his ribs, stings. He rolls his aching shoulders, resetting himself, ready for the next hyung.

Cool hands wrap around his arms. The next hyung pulls him to one side until his cheek lays flat against the cold floor. Fingertips graze over the marks along his neck, down his torso to his legs. Junhong feels comfortable under his hyung’s control, pliant and patient, breath quickening with anticipation.

The fingertips continue down his almost endless legs. His hyung teases in circles around one ankle before gripping both. He moves Junhong’s legs further apart, opening his hips as though stretching out in stride. As he crawls his fingers up the backside of the leading leg, his hyung stops to scratch behind the knee. He slaps the back of the unmarked thigh once, then pats the skin in a broad circle.

On instinct, Junhong squeezes his legs together, tearing his leg from the spread position. The chain between his ankle cuffs rattles on the floor when his hyung jerks his legs apart again. He growls, deep and rich, before smacking again. Heat rushes to the area, and his hyung places a quick bite on Junhong’s outer thigh. The pain is sharp and swift. Junhong gasps, pulling against the ankle cuffs before shifting back into place. Lips press against the spot as Junhong relaxes again, pain fading into a lingering burn.

Another kiss, just as soft, halfway up his inner thigh. His hyung pauses, fingertips moving in light circles over Junhong’s skin. The tingling marks on his other thigh serve as a reminder, a suggestion in the form of warm flesh turned toward the cool floor.

“Hyung, please,” Junhong begs, breaking from his non-verbal requests. His voice sounds scarcely recognizable to his own ears. It’s a breathy whisper between hot, shallow pants. There’s an undercurrent of something else, too. Desperation. Hunger. He wants his hyung’s mouth on his skin. He wants to feel the pull of heat to the area, warming his skin. He wants the tickle of pain blooming in his thigh. He wants the rosy marks to trail one after the other, tattooing his skin, growing dark as the minutes pass. He wants those matching bruises, left by lips and teeth. He wants them now.

Vibrations, a hum from his hyung’s lips, tease his skin. Junhong groans, his dick throbbing. “Hyung,” he says, pleading again.

With a low chuckle, his hyung agrees. A wide mouth opens against his skin, slick tongue lapping. He sucks Junhong’s skin between his teeth, running the tip of his tongue over the bit before releasing it with a wet smack. This fourth hyung sucks at Junhong’s thigh again, this time with intent to mark. Junhong sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. His hyung powers up his thigh, teeth and tongue working hard to craft the bruises Junhong craves.

A head of hair knocks against his aching balls as his hyung skips over skin to reach his inner thigh. His teeth hit first, a light nip in slow motion, before releasing. He comes back down, harder, letting his lips seal closed around that area on Junhong’s skin. Junhong struggles against his cuffs, both wrist and ankle, crying out. His chest puffs with his sudden intake of breath before he forces himself to realign his posture on the exhale. Another mark stings on his thigh, placed close and with care to the previous one. It’s fucking wonderful.

His hyung goes in for another hickey. “Pause, please,” Junhong says. The lips leave the realm of his senses, the wetness of his inner thigh remaining. He wiggles his shoulders, his hips, shaking himself out. He stretches as much as he can, his muscles and joints aching from his immobilization. A long, careful hand rubs one of his calves, on the same leg to which his hyung was giving attention. The hand slides down to his ankle and back up to his knee. It makes him want to melt into a puddle of tingling bruises and affection.

“Okay, hyung,” Junhong exhales through puckered lips, some relief to his joints. “Resume, please.” His hyung wastes no time in kissing his exposed inner knee. He races back up the thigh to where he started his collection of hickeys near Junhong’s hip. Teeth scrape against his delicate skin, harder and harder until he starts sucking again. His hyung shows off his efficient skills, making half a garter of hickeys around Junhong’s thigh. His mouth leaves, and Junhong waits for the next hyung.

A smack on the thickest part of his untouched ass cheek startles him. He curls against the spank, panting and waiting for the next one. It never comes.

Instead, the final pair of hands rolls him over on his back. Junhong shifts to make himself more comfortable. He presses his shoulders into the floor in a plank to reduce the pressure on his wrists. Someone blows cool, quick hair at the head of his dick. He whines, shuddering. Junhong loses tension for a moment and rests back on his wrists. His hyung presses his hips down with one hand, and Junhong stays flat against his arms. The final hyung’s lips brushes against the leaking tip of his dick. He moans at the contact, resisting the urge to lift his hips and follow the mouth for more. One of the others makes a strangled noise off to Junhong’s left.

The mouth re-initiates contact just above Junhong’s navel. He recognizes Daehyun’s lips immediately, voluptuous and sensual. They curl back on Junhong’s skin, letting teeth graze against soft belly. He bites down hard, pinching skin without breaking it, again and again. The even curves of Daehyun’s teeth press into Junhong’s flesh. He’s forceful enough to leave a good imprint, one that will last longer than a few moments. Junhong focuses on control his breathing, trying his best to breathe with the top of his chest and not down to the bottom of his lungs.

Daehyun shifts his attention upward, leaving a wet trail on smooth skin. He traces his tongue in a sloppy line from Junhong’s belly button, further away from Junhong’s straining cock. His lips stake out a fresh patch of skin to bruise, forming a plush seal. Daehyun’s tongue circles the spot, flexed to a point as he traces. He sucks harder and harder and scrapes with his mouth so the delightful sting intensifies. Daehyun finishes off his second mark of the night by pressing a kiss to the bruise, wet and smacking.

Moving again, he bites and sucks bruises in an arc below Junhong’s ribcage. He makes three: one near the closer rib-half, one centered below the breastbone, and one on the other side of his ribcage. Each one stings more than the last, each placed quicker. The last one, Daehyun finishes off with a nip at the center of his mark. Junhong waits for Daehyun’s next trick, heart beating in his dick.

Blunt fingers brush over Junhong’s nipples and his breath stops in his throat. Daehyun finds the further one and catches it between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls the nipple between his fingers, pinching and squeezing.

His lips press against a spot below his ribs, midway between the fresh mark on his side and the one centered below his ribs. Daehyun bites, pinching skin between his teeth. His fingers mimic the motion around Junhong’s nipple. Junhong bites his lip to stifle a moan, his skin buzzing with the tantalizing teasing from all his hyungs. The throbbing from all the marks left on his body culminates in a heady rush. He feels more tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

Smirking into his skin as he nips, Daehyun teases his nipple with vicious enthusiasm. Junhong arches into the touch, lifting his hips from his wrists. He’s had his fill of teasing. He wants more.

Daehyun retreats, and Junhong can feel him laughing. He wants to ask for attention to his other nipple, beg for symmetry, but someone (Himchan?) clears his throat.

All at once, hands find him. One pair loosens the blindfold around his eyes without giving him his sight back. Another pulls him to an upright position to get the cuffs of his wrists, another removes his ankle cuffs. They help him stretch and ease aching joints from the pressure and the restraints. He blinks, wary of the light peeking form around the edges of his blindfold. He tries not to smile as hands pass over marks on his body as they help. It hurts, it’s good.

He’s ready for part B of the game, the guessing part. The moment of truth. He’s confident this round. He goes over the order one last time in his head, puzzling over the first two, but decides to go with his second guess. The hyungs are growing sloppy with their technique, their approach. They could at least try to mimic each other, try to switch something up.

“Water, please?” he asks, and someone is quick to bring a water bottle to him. He takes a sip, waiting for the water to settle i his belly before offering the bottle back. “Okay,” he says. “I’m ready.”

The room goes quiet, tension palpable. He can feel it on his skin, his heart speeding up a few beats, encouraging him to sweat again. Eyes rove his body, making his skin prickle. Junhong rubs his belly, pressing into the bruises forming under his skin.

“First,” Junhong begins, his voice faltering. He coughs and tries again. “The first hyung was Himchan hyung, then Yonggukie hyung, then Youngjae hyung.” Junhong pauses to lick his lips, considering asking for the water bottle again. “Then Jonguppie hyung, then Daehyun hyung." He nods. "Am I right?”

Someone, Youngjae hyung, laughs and claps. Himchan whistles. The blindfold comes off, and Junhong blinks at the sudden surge of light. “You think you’re right? How confident?” asks Himchan. Junhong gulps. They’ve asked follow-up questions once before, when he got it all wrong. His stomach plummets.

“What are the stakes tonight, hyung?” he counters, buying some time before the inevitable. Junhong stretches and rolls his arms. He wants to touch every mark on his body, everything they gave him, everything he’s earned. His fingers twitch with the need to examine himself in the mirror, to spread his body out and enjoy everything. Junhong continues stretching.

“The stakes? The same as always,” says Himchan.

“You get it right, you pick to of us to lick your little maknae cock until you jizz,” Daehyun says, eyes roving down to his groin, “and, if you’re wrong, we get to come all over you.” Youngjae elbows Daehyun hard in the torso. Jongup is already palming himself through his One-Piece-patterned boxers. Junhong grins despite the realization he’s missed his shot at another spectacular Himchan-Daehyun blowjob.

“How wrong was I?” Junhong asks, rolling his hips and stretching his legs out before him. He reaches for his ankles, groaning into the stretch.

“Close, actually,” Yongguk says, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs.

“Yeah,” Jongup says, nodding his head, “You mixed up Yongguk hyung and Himchan hyung and me.”

Junhong sits up. “Ah, is that so?”

“It is,” Daehyun says, wrestling out of Youngjae’s jabbing range and stepping out of his briefs. His dick is already hard in his hand, dark pink between his blunt fingers. “Sit pretty for us, maknae.” People referring to him as the nameless “maknae” tends to put a scowl on his face. But during this game? He likes it. A lot, it would seen, by the way his cock jumps every time Daehyun says it. “Let’s see those marks.”

Youngjae and Himchan are close behind, massaging their dicks as they find their spots around him. Junhong kneels and waits for them to finish. He balls his own hands into fists on his thighs as they aim for the bruises they’ve made on his body.

He likes this part too, but not as much as he likes a two-person blowjob.

Junhong sighs, quiet and resigned, as Yongguk and Jongup jockey for a better position to their marks. Youngjae settles in to stand behind him. He closes his eyes, collecting himself, and opens them before Daehyun can demand his gaze. Junhong looks up at them all, eyes traveling form member to member; chin jutting out in stubborn challenge.

The next guessing game he plays is one all for him. Who comes first? It’s harder to guess when Youngjae is behind him, out of his line of sight. He could try listening but it’s hard to focus. With the sound of everyone masturbating too, distractions are plentiful. Junhong licks his lips, then looks up at the person standing before him.

Daehyun is easy to rile up, already halfway there with a flush high across his cheeks. Jongup beside him can be more of a challenge to read, depending on his mood. Tonight he’s grinning as he twists his wrist on his upstroke. Junhong figured out how to work the sweet spot Yongguk has for him long ago, and Himchan? His hands wander often enough his point comes across at the highest volume. Himchan’s teasing sometimes crosses the line, Daehyun’s too, but never anything unforgivable. Paying close enough attention to them when they’re being insufferable pays off in moments like this.

Kneeling at the center of them jacking off, he spreads his legs wider to show off the bruises on his inner thighs. Himchan and Yongguk move, kneeling on either side of him. Facing Junhong head-on, Jongup kneels too while Daehyun stays standing. Finding their marks.

 _So that was the order_ , Junhong realizes. He does his best to look demure ad unassuming before fluttering his eyelashes up at Daehyun. His dick is jut below Junhong’s direct line of vision. Junhong doesn’t move forward, instead tipping his head back and letting his mouth fall open a crack. If he cranes his head over his shoulder, he can strain to see Youngjae.

With a groan bubbling up from the back of the throat, Jongup is the first to come. It’s unlike him, and catches Junhong off-guard. Long, thick spurts hit Junhong square on the stomach, drawing his attention back forward. Daehyun bites his lip as he watches Jongup shoot out, his hand increasing its pace. As Jongup finishes, the come is warm on his skin. It slides down his body, leaving a slick trail.

Junhong doesn’t touch it, or himself, yet. He moves his fists away, planting his knuckles on the ground. Patience.

Youngjae comes soon thereafter, poking the head of his dick against the back of Junhongs neck. The pressure on the bruises makes him shift his torso away, makes his toes curl and uncurl. Come trickles down Junhong’s neck, his back, some of it snaking forward toward his collarbones. Junhong fights to stay upright, his body preferring to melt into the floor as Youngjae gasps behind him. Junhong sits bolt upright when Youngjae smears the last bit of come on the nape of his neck with his fingers.

As soon as Youngaje pulls back, come hits him from two directions: Himchan on his thigh and Daehyun on his chest. Himchan’s shoulders heave as his hip bucks beneath the circle of his fingers. He’s loud, shouting nonsense like Daehyun. Their moans reverberate around the room over the panting of the others, striking a chord in Junhong’s boner. Himchans comes until the last bit of jizz drips from his tip, cleaning himself off with a quick swipe of his thumb. Daehyun paints two final strips across Junhong’s chest. He steps back, hunched over and panting. His eyes sweep over his work before flicking up to look past Junhong.

Taking a quiet deep breath that sends more blood to his dick than calms him, Junhong turns his head to watch Yongguk. His arm strain with the effort of pumping his dick, his wide mouth drawn back. If the others are watching him, Junhong can’t feel their eyes. He focuses on the dark, purplish head squeezed between Yongguk’s hand. The tip of his dick gleams with precome, slick with want. Junhong runs his eyes back up his hyung’s body kneeling beside him, and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

With a guttural grunt and a shudder forward, Yongguk spills over his hand and against Junhong’s thigh. He rolls his wrist, snapping it to start his downstroke. His hand keeps moving through his release until there’s nothing left to give.

Finally, with all the other members spent and sweaty, Junhong reaches for his dick. Tears of relief well in his eyes once he wraps his hand around the base of his cock. He’s been ready for this, waiting so long tonight to relieve the ache. His hand moves of its own accord, squeezing tight and gaining speed as he slides along his shaft. The pressure building further in his balls...it’s too fast, he’s going to come too soon, and it feels too good to slow down.

It’s Daehyun and Jongup’s lazy, smirking faces he watches before he comes. Squeezing his eyes shut as wave after wave of pleasure roll through him, a few tears trickle down to wet his cheeks. Silence reigns beside the heartbeat in his ears.

Junhong blinks bleary-eyed, looking down at his sticky hand and the mess on his body. His head swivels, looking for his hyungs and finding Yongguk and Himchan beside him. They help him to stand, knees a dull ache somewhere between his hips and his ankles. Junhong responds to their questions (“Are you thirsty, Junhong?” “Someone get the tissues.”), moving when they ask. He takes a moment for himself, mentally, letting himself soak up the feeling before he’s back on Earth.

His body buzzes like school just let out, and he feels like he’s floating in a pool of euphoria, and the best part? The bruises will be tender for a few days. He reaches for the water bottle on the side table. Youngjae helps bring it the rest of the way. He thanks his hyung and tips the bottle back. Sticky and sweaty and spent, he’s alive. Loved.

Himchan sidles up next to him, one hand flipping the tag on the back of his white tee. He’s sweat through parts of the shirt. “Better luck next time, Junhonggie,” he says, nudging an elbow into Junhong’s side. Junhong flinches, swallowing the mouthful of water before grinning back.

“Will I need the luck, hyung?” Junhong asks, raising his eyebrows with heavy suggestion. “I’m not the one who always has to prove he can take—” Himchan squawks with undue indignation, looking far more scandalized than necessary. He bustles out of the room, following Yongguk as the members trail out. Junhong stops following and watches them leave, pausing for a moment as he laughs under his breath. He’ll get that double blowjob next time, he’s sure of it.


End file.
